


impulse

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [132]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, not angsty just. silly honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: So maybe Newt's version of the story was changed alittle
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [132]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	impulse

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Prompt A: “You know, I don’t actually even like lemon that much.”"

After the initial burst of activity, LOCCENT quiets down a bit; people split off into their own little group—someone manages to rustle up snacks, so Newt drags Hermann over there and munches on pretzels.

“Are you alright?” Hermann asks him; quietly.

“Mm? Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Newt says, “just a bit sore. You?”

“Similar,” Hermann says, “though I think perhaps—”

“Doctors!”

It’s Mako; behind her tags a resigned-looking Raleigh Beckett. “Oh, pretzels,” Mako says, and takes a few. “Mr. Beckett?”

Beckett shakes his head. “I’ll pass,” he says.

Tendo wanders over at some point as well; Beckett is surprisingly good conversation when they’re not in a frenzy of activity. Somehow, the conversation wanders to Newt and Hermann—or, more specifically, how they met.

Hermann grimaces. “We…didn’t get along,” he says.

Beckett raises a brow; gives a pointed look at their joined hands. “Really,” he says, “I mean, I know you two argue, but…”

“Yeah…” Newt says, “no, actually, Hermann is right about this one.”

“Huh,” Beckett says, “do tell.”

* * *

It’s five in the morning.

It’s five in the morning, which would, on any other day, be something unremarkable, but today, it is five in the morning on New Year’s Day, and Newton Geiszler isn’t in his own room.

In fact, he’s not even sure he’s in the motel complex anymore.

Oh; sure; the walls are white. Hell, there’s even the same shitty, shitty beige couch. Well—he thinks. It’s pretty dark and he can’t really see anything. It could be a different colour. Either way, he’s laying on it.

Key difference, though, is that there is a cat sitting on his chest, purring like a damn rusty motor, kneading into his chest with little needle-like claws, and occasionally stopping to lick his cheek.

Newt stares, for a few moments.

It’s a very nice cat, so far as cats go; on the bigger side, with medium-length ginger fur, save for a single white spot over its eye. The cat blinks at him slowly, hiding pale blue eyes from view.

Newt blinks back; slowly, as well. It’s a trust thing, he thinks.

The key here, though, is that this is _not_ his cat. In fact, Newt doesn’t _have_ a cat.

Therefore, he is in someone else’s flat.

“What the _hell_ are you doing in my _flat?_ ”

Ah; right on time.

Newt cranes his neck to see the speaker.

It’s a (pretty cute) British dude—going by the accent—wearing fancy striped pyjamas, ridiculous undercut all bedhead tousled, and he’s glaring balefully at Newt, lips pursed in a tight line, hand gripping his cane.

“Uh…” Newton says, “uh.”

“ _What are you doing in my flat?_ ”

“…no idea,” Newt says. “Uh. To be quite honest.”

* * *

“And _that,_ ” Newt says, with a flourish, “is how we met.”

Mako and Beckett bark harsh laughs. “Funny, Geiszler,” Beckett says; voice deep and tinged with amusement. “Now, give us the real story.”

“Hey!” Newt exclaims, “that _is_ the real story!”

“It is _slander,_ ” Hermann sniffs, “almost _nothing_ you said was at all accurate. Never in my _life_ have I _ever_ worn striped nightclothes.”

Newt gives him an incredulous look. “ _That’s_ the point you’re nitpicking?” he asks. “Wow. Wow. Doctor Gottlieb, everyone.”

“Oh shut up,” Hermann retorts. “Rangers—if you’ll allow me—”

* * *

Hermann is not, as a rule, fond of waking up early on the weekends. He’s not fond of waking up early _ever,_ but on days he has class, he does what he must, and revels in his late morning weekends.

Or rather, he _usually_ does.

Last night, he woke up at around half past midnight when there was a commotion outside. He marked it down as neighbours, or a wild animal or something, and then went back to bed.

It takes him almost a full hour to fall back to sleep, even using his breathing techniques, and it’s uneasy; something making the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

It’s probably nothing.

It is _not_ nothing.

Hermann wakes up early, feeling ill at ease, and walks into his living room to find a man asleep on his coffee-table, his legs hanging off the end. Pasha, Hermann’s cat, blinks at him slowly from his perch on the man’s chest.

Hermann draws in a sharp breath. “What the hell…?”

And that’s when the man wakes up, startles Pasha, who leaps off with a startled yelp, and hits his head on the floor with a sickening _crack,_ and passes out.

Well. What a lovely Saturday morning.

* * *

“I took him to the hospital, of course,” Hermann assures the rangers. “I’m not a horrible person.”

“…alright, maybe I _did_ change the story a bit,” Newt says, finally.

“You just don’t want to admit that you fell asleep on a _table,_ ” Hermann sniffs. “Anyway, it turned out he was fine, but, well—it never hurts to make sure.”

“They only had lemon-water at the ER,” Newt says, with a grimace. “You know, I don’t even like lemon that much, but Hermann kept fussing about dehydration, so I must’ve drunk at least ten cups of it.”

Mako nods. “Unusual levels of worry,” she says. “He thought you were attractive, yes?”

Hermann sputters for a moment, eyes bulging. “I did _not!_ he cries, “I—I—”

He buries his face in his hands. 

“He totally did,” Newt stage-whispers, patting his arm. “I’d know—I was in his head. Took him long enough to actually do anything about it, though.”

Tendo, who’s been silent up until now, shakes his head. “Wow,” he says, “when Hermann said your first meeting went badly, I was expecting—well, I wasn’t expecting that you accidentally broke into his place the day before you guys were going to meet up at the conference.”

“I think I was going to surprise him,” Newt admits. “I, uh, already had his address, and I…” he trails off. 

“ _Impulsive,_ ” Hermann mutters, face still hidden in his hands.

Newt shrugs. “Yeah, but look where it got me,” he grins, and shoves Hermann lightly. The other doesn’t look up, but Newt can feel his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
